


Home is Where the Coffee is Terrible and Everybody Knows Your Flaws

by misura



Category: Sky Captain & the World of Tomorrow (2004)
Genre: Background Relationships, Gen, Pre-Canon, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Six months in a Manchurian prison camp," Joe said. "Six!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home is Where the Coffee is Terrible and Everybody Knows Your Flaws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cefyr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cefyr/gifts).



> the thing about this movie is, it doesn't really seem like it would _do_ things like PTSD.
> 
> so when Joe gets back from spending six months in a prison camp, I figure that, well, it might go something like _this_.
> 
> (oh, and sorry for not including any actual drawings.)

"Six months in a Manchurian prison camp," Joe said. "Six!"

"Good to have you back, cap," Dex said, and if it hadn't been about the hundredth time he'd said it, Joe might have hugged him. Again. As it was, he restrained himself, although it did take an effort.

"They were going to cut off my fingers." He glared at Franky, who had thus far neglected to offer even a single hug, let alone something more substantial such as, for example, money.

Granted, he hadn't been hired by the British government to spend six months in a Manchurian prison camp (no one _on Earth_ could pay him enough for _that_ ) but still. There'd been a contract, and when he'd been shot down, it had been in service to said contract. It seemed reasonable to expect some sort of recompense, if only by way of a 'welcome back among the living, we hope you will let us hire you again some day' gift.

Franky looked unimpressed, which probably didn't bode well. "They always _say_ they're going to cut off people's fingers." She _sounded_ unimpressed, too.

Joe decided to drop the topic. For now. "And then I come back to find you trying to poach my - trying to poach _Dex_!"

"They were just some drawings, Joseph," Franky said. "You weren't there. I was authorized to make an offer, that's all. Strictly business."

"I wasn't there because _I spent six months in a Manchurian prison camp_." Well, so much for dropping the subject. In truth, though, the callousness of certain people was a bit shocking.

Hurtful, almost, although Joe was not the kind of man who would describe himself as 'sensitive'.

"Yes," Franky said. "And they told you that they were going to cut off your fingers."

"Great to have you back, cap," Dex said.

Joe regretfully decided that this new variation did not justify a change in his public hugging policy. (Well, mostly-private, in-front-of-a-representative-of-her-British-majesty's-government hugging.)

"And how did you end up there?" Franky asked. "I know you, Joseph. You're a good pilot."

On reflection, perhaps dropping the subject had been the right call after all. Let bygones be bygones. He had lived through hell, yes, but the important thing was that he had lived. "You know, it really is good to be back. Any word from Polly?"

"Polly said to say she's not talking to you," Dex said. He sounded apologetic.

"I take it that drawing of a camera is not intended for Polly, then."

Dex flushed. Joe made a mental note to see if anyone was selling any Double Bubble around here. It would probably be expensive, but as he felt compelled to remind people, Joe had just spent six months in a Manchurian prison camp. There were worse things a man might lose than some money.

"Ah. The fabled Miss Perkins." Franky smiled. Joe had always liked her smile. It was the kind of thing that made him glad they were on the same side. _When_ they were on the same side. "Now there's a woman who is clearly happy to have you back alive and well."

"Polly's a reporter. She's very busy," Joe said. He should probably - no, make that _definitely_ burn her picture. He'd do it tomorrow. "She's no doubt off chasing a story somewhere."

Dex squirmed a little.

"Or not," Joe added smoothly. "Regardless. You can't have Dex. Dex is mine and, more importantly, Dex is very happy where he is right now."

Dex looked somewhat less than thrilled. "I wouldn't mind working on that mobile air strip a bit more. I mean, you're going to have to get some pretty big - sorry, cap. Did you want me to shut up now?"

"If you want the truth, not particularly," Joe said. He realized he'd actually missed the terrible stuff that passed for coffee around here. He'd realized this yesterday as well, but apparently, he still wasn't quite over those six months he'd spent in a Manchurian prison camp. "You talk, I listen. It's our thing."

"Your thing." Franky sounded amused. "Really, Joseph. Could you stay out of trouble if you _tried_? Or can't you even try?"

"My fuel line broke," Joe said. Lied, obviously - or so he felt. "It wasn't my fault."

Dex looked stricken. Dex was a hopeless innocent who believed just about anything anyone told him, provided he liked and trusted them. Thanks to Joe's constant watchfulness, that currently boilt down to about three people, one of whom had tried to poach him in Joe's absence and one of whom had very nearly gotten Joe killed. Possibly, he should have been more selective in whom he introduced to Dex.

"She cut it, didn't she?" Franky chuckled. "Oh, I _like_ this girl."

"Promise her an exclusive interview and she's all yours, I'm sure," Joe said.

Dex still looked stricken, but it was a different kind of stricken. Joe tried to think of a good way of saying that it was entirely possible that someone else had cut his fuel line while also making it very clear that Dex was not to allow Polly anywhere near his plane ever again.

The fact that she wasn't talking to him might help, but Joe knew full well _that_ promise would only hold for as long as he didn't go and land himself in the middle of a story. Polly was very professional.

"Perhaps I will." Franky rose. "Joseph, good to have you back. Dex, we'll talk later." She winked; Dex didn't blush. That was something, at least.

"I tried to find you, you know," Dex said, when Franky was safely gone.

Joe imagined Dex finding him. Imagined Dex in a Manchurian prison camp, with people yelling at him that they were going to cut off his fingers. Dex had lovely fingers.

"Dex," he said.

"What? I did," Dex said. "You know how worried everyone was? I mean, we all know you're tough and all that, but it was _six months_. Besides, everyone knows they do terrible stuff to people in those camps."

They'd have told Dex that they were going to cut off his fingers, and Dex would have figured something out. He'd have built something, some terrible machine out of twigs and mud and who knows what else, and he'd have gotten out of there, taking as many other prisoners with him as he went. Dex would never have stayed for _six months_. He'd have broken out in a week. Sooner.

Dex, in all likeliness, would never have gotten shot down in the first place.

"I missed you," Joe said. "Please tell me we got paid."

"Of course we got paid." Dex looked indignant and a little hurt. Joe would really have to find him that Double Bubble - and some new comics, too, probably. "We made a little extra too, from freeing all those prisoners who weren't you."

Only Dex. "How many?"

Dex shrugged. "I don't know, a couple of hundred?"

Prisoners, obviously, not whatever monetary unit they were getting paid in this month.

"Good boy, Dex."

Dex grinned. "Happy to have you back, cap."


End file.
